Scars

I think it’s probably fair to say that most people have scars of some sort. I have a mark on my right leg from an unfortunate incident with a lightning rod when I was a kid. It wasn’t a big deal, but it left a scar and a remembrance. Looking at that scar, I remember that my grandparents were visiting from BC that week and my grandfather took me into the hospital to get checked out. I even remember the stories he told me on the way to town – all prompted by a little round scar on my leg.

We all have scars where we have been bumped and bruised by life. Some of these might be minor, like the one on my leg, others life-changing. Some might be visible, others not. I have a lot more scars on the inside, places where the hurts weren’t physical, but the remembering of them can still bring many memories, both good and bad.

These past days have been filled with sharing memories and stories of Mom. Staying there last week, helping to care for Mom meant extra time spent in the evenings with Dad, listening to him speak so proudly of Mom. He spoke of how one of the things that shaped Mom the most was the significant bullying she endured as a child. This was a scar that ran deep inside Mom, right up until her final day.

However, it was this scar that developed Mom into a parent who was fiercely defensive of her family, making sure that each one felt valued and seen. I think that is one of the things that I will miss the most – being seen by my Mom. She never wanted anyone to feel left out. While it was this internal scar that kept Mom from taking public roles or drawing attention to herself, it is also that scar that drove her to serve others, caring for people from behind the scenes. She wanted everyone to know they were loved.

We have a choice how we respond to our scars, those wounds that we carry on the inside and on the outside. We can choose to be angry and bitter, or we can grow and learn and not be defined by our scars. We can strive to love those around us, not wanting them to be hurt by the same things we have been. We can look to Jesus, who was beaten and scarred for us, yet endured it willingly out of love for us.

This loss in our family, this loss of my mom is a fresh open wound right now, but one day will become another scar. A scar that will bring pain with the memory of loss, alongside the joy of having been loved by my mom for 44 years. A scar that will remind me not only of the life of my mom, but also of the faithfulness of Jesus, who she loved most of all.

I love this song by I Am They, speaking of how the scars that we have are reminders of how we come to Jesus in our brokenness. As we all walk in our hurts and our pains, let them point you to Jesus, living in thankfulness for His scars that bring us victory.